


Find him

by NoMore_17



Series: WangXian's Fics [2]
Category: Souls Know, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Looking for the lost piece of your soul, Love always finds a way, M/M, Memories of Past Life, Recovered Memories, SoulsKnow, WangXian meet Souls Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMore_17/pseuds/NoMore_17
Summary: You are in a hurry.As usual.You are constantly, non-stop running, chasing something. Or rather, someone.A spasmodic, intense search. You have to find him. Before it's too late.Too late ... But what for?
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Series: WangXian's Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652506
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Find him

**Author's Note:**

> So... after Home, i thought about giving the LWJ's POV to the story. Maybe you can read even without reading Home first, but I think that there are two sides of the same coin.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this little thing, as much I enjoyed to write it.  
> As usual, feel free to leave any comment, suggestion, even criticism. I need to learn, and I know everyone can teach me something.  
> You can find me on Twitter as well.

You are in a hurry.

As usual.

You are constantly, non-stop running, chasing something. Or rather, _someone_.

A spasmodic, intense search. You have to find him. Before it's too late.

 _Too late_ ... But what for?

You don't know. You don't even know who or what exactly you are looking for.

Lately, you've been on pins and needles more than usual. Feeling that something is going to happen. You know it. You can _sense_ it.

Yeah, but what? Definitely going out of your mind, perhaps.

Your brother is the only one who seems to understand, or at least to accept, your madness. Even if he's worried about you, he doesn't ask a question. Taking what you are willing to share, without pushing.

Truth is, he is able to see right through you, without you being able to stop him. Not that you really want to stop him from doing that. You love him, as he loves you. A significant part of your mind-blowing and extravagant life.

He is everything you are not. Although so similar in appearance, there could not be two more different people. Brother is sociable, open, kind. With an intense social life, beloved, respected by everyone as much as you are feared. People are intimidated by you. Maybe because of your severe and solemn appearance, or maybe because of your icy eyes. It doesn't matter if they don't know you, simply, as far as possible, they avoid interacting with you. In their eyes you are distant, unapproachable.

Well, you don't like interacting with them, so it's okay.

You've proven your worth in the field. So many fields, indeed. You might not be a man of many words, but you are certainly a man of action.

And you are successful at everything you do. Singer, pilot, actor... there are very few things you can't do. Always on top.

All that, however, would not be possible without Brother. He ease your way through people, he understands your every need and your every discomfort, without even having you to voice them.

He supports you. Always. Whatever you do.

Brother, friend, ally. It's thanks to him if you haven't gone crazy in all these years. Not yet, at least.

He never judged you. He never judged your obsession. Looking for something that you can't even explain to yourself. In search of the missing piece of your soul.

He is there. Silently by your side. Until the end. Whatever happens. Wherever this madness leads you.

He simply smiles at you and says, _"Find it."_

Like this morning. When he offered to accompany you to the airport, but you preferred to come alone with your motorbike.

You have to leave it at the secure parking area, until someone from your staff is sent to collect it. Then wondering where the hell they are going to send it to you next time... Yes, because you never know exactly where you're going. _Play it by ear_ , you call it. You have a feeling, a vision and you launch yourself heart and soul towards your next destination. That will be the next clue, to another, and yet another.

Signs that take you around the world, to the most unimaginable, sometimes remote places.

How does your brother find the right event, the right invitation every time, remains a mystery. A photo shoot, a competition, a concert... there is always a way to be in a certain place at a given time.

Nobody ever wonders why you appear on such a short notice from one end of the planet to the other. You collect the crumbs that a mischievous Little Thumb leaves behind, trying not to miss even one.

You have been doing this all your life. You go around the planet as if it was the most natural thing to do. You have enough energy to not suffer from long haul flights, jet lag, climatic changes or whatever.

You took part in a race out of Moto GP on a circuit in a place whose name you can't even pronounce, fourteen hours by plane far away from where you were at that moment, without batting an eyelid. Your brother has moved heaven and earth to bring the organization to give a wild card to you. But it was crucial that you went to that wasteland in the middle of nowhere.

 _Crucial._ So you told him. It's always like that for you. Each time it is as if this makes the difference between life and death.

 _Find him_.

Who knows, maybe it really is. Who knows what would happen if you ever really stopped. It almost seems that your spasmodic search is the only thing that keeps you alive. Nothing else matters.

You are seen by everyone as a cold man, from whom no emotion shines through. You have no friends, no relationship. Never had, actually. The only form of excitement, almost feverish, is due to the discovery of a new clue, a new sign pointing in some new direction.

Where the evidence of this _feverish excitement_ is given by an imperceptible arching of an eyebrow, followed by an even more imperceptible movement of your mouth, which tries to pull itself up, almost begging to become at least a half grin.

Basically no one notices.

But your heart is pounding.

Without control.

Each time ready to jump out of your chest and launch itself into the new destination designated by the last clue.

 _Find him_.

Actually, only you can consider them _clues_. They are random things that your obsessed brain processes in a completely irresponsible way, attributing them meanings and senses that go beyond logic and human understanding.

Every time thinking it's the last one, the right time, that you will finally find what your soul craves so much.

And every time you find yourself with a bleeding heart, but ready to try again. And again.

And again.

You look around. You still don't know why you're here.

You headed to this new city chasing a scent.

You shake your head. This time you have really done it. You left the after-party of the most famous fashion house on the planet, of which you are also proud testimonial, in the middle of the fashion week, only because the bouquet of a certain wine they served, had hit you like a wrecking ball. It had turned on all of your cells. From the bottom of your soul.

You didn't even want to go to that event.

You don't like this kind of thing, it's usually Brother who takes care of public relations. But this was different, and not just because you are their commercial face and not him. Something had pushed you to go there. In the same way something had pushed you to run away.

 _Find him_.

As soon as you found out where the wine whose aroma had reduced you an emotional mush, obviously totally unnoticed by people, you dropped everything without even waiting for your brother to find you the right cover, the right event, or at least the right excuse to be in a new place in such a short time.

How funny, you don't even drink wine...

And so you've arrived here, an unknown yet beautiful city, stretched between the blue of the sea and the green of the _Mountain_. You found your schedule arriving at the hotel, the only thing you managed to book before leaving so suddenly.

You were expected to be in a _Literary Café_ in the historic center of the town. Your poor, exasperated brother had accepted an old invitation for an interview about the harmony of traditional culture, multi-ethnicity, ancient history and modern civilization, through painting, literature and music.

Why they wanted you, it wasn't clear.

The place was nice. Warm and welcoming. You wouldn't have complained anyway. It had been a real stroke of luck that your brother had dug out this invitation right in the city that you had suddenly _decided_ to visit.

There was a small photo set arranged with bright lights, a corner interviews, and in the adjacent room a small stage with the instruments ready and connected to the audio system of the hall.

All around shelves and shelves filled with books. Not a single space was left empty. They had probably taken the _Literary Café_ thing very seriously.

You had absently read some titles. You have recognized at least eight different languages, including ideograms. They hadn't any classification method. Art, history, philosophy, whatever.

Together on the same shelf novels and old myths, sacred texts and scientific investigations, treatises on astronomy and musical scores.

A shiver had shaken your body when you thoughtlessly ran a finger over the worn ribs.

 _Energy_...

However, what had catch your attention, enough to make you move without even realizing it, had been a particular object half hidden in the shadows.

An old zither rested on one of the low shelves of the library. Basically hidden from the sight of anyone who entered that room. Completely invisible unless you know exactly where to look.

Your feet had brought you there, in front of an ancient instrument that no one nowadays plays anymore.

Completely out of instinct you had placed your fingers on the polished wood, delicately almost reverently. You had plucked a random string, an E, with your other hand, and the instrument had responded. The vibrato had resounded in the void of the room.

A C.

You were stunned looking at those strings that had responded to the sound without you touching them. You didn't have the strength to pull your hands away. The strings had vibrated again. A, B. And again. G, E.

"I didn't know you could play the zither. Is there anything you can't do?" The voice had come behind you. You had suddenly taken your hands away. Your skin tingled.

Your body hid the instrument from view, of course they thought you were playing it. But who had plucked the strings? Could it be that you had done something without realizing it? Maybe you thought about playing it and then you really did it?

You still don't have an answer. You are no longer sure of anything. And right now, again, just like last night, something in your chest vibrates, writhes.

It hurts. As if something was struggling to come out.

 _Find him_.

And that melody... you know that melody.

♪ E... ♪ C, A, B, G, E... ♪

Deep down in your heart you know it. You never really heard it anywhere, you never played it, but you know you know it. You could go on with it. ♪ A... ♪ B, C, D, G, A... ♪ As if you had written it yourself.

A vibration of the soul.

You don't remember very much about your evening. You only know that somehow you made it.

Somehow you hid that emotion, which overflowed, overcoming every barrier of consciousness, and left you with a throbbing heart and out of breath.

Not that anyone has noticed. You can be a perfectly expressionless statue.

An ice sculpture, they call you.

The truth is that what you feel is no one's business. For whom races your heart, neither. You already belong to someone. And said someone is the only one who will know how to free your plastered heart. Layer by layer. Only this _someone_ will ever be allowed to enter.

You are astride your bike, still standing here and still don't knowing exactly what you are doing. A black shadow passes by you. Your gaze is caught by the bright, almost fluorescent green of his luggage.

 _Who the hell is buying a bag in that color?_ A little voice invites you not to criticize too much: it is the exact same color of the helmet you are wearing. _Oh well maybe it's ok with the helmet_. Really?

You shake your head at these thoughts and try to find the way in for the temporary parking. And once again you wonder why you're here. Your flight is scheduled tonight, while right now it's just breakfast time.

You sigh. After what happened last night, you couldn't sleep a wink. Heart pounding in the chest and a certain melody echoing inside your head.

So you got up this morning, packed a few things in a small backpack and left the hotel on your motorbike.

Just two words to your shocked, but not too much, brother, to whom you have left the rest of your luggage, an endless series of meetings to reschedule and even your beloved skateboard.

You have decided to travel light this time, not even you know exactly where are you going. Just that little voice that whispers: _find him_.

Eventually you managed to leave your motorbike in the right parking spot, and secure your helmet in a locker. Then you head towards the entrance of the airport.

You always use the same locker combination, nevertheless you send a text to your brother for when he comes to retrieve it.

You care about this green helmet. It's your favorite.

Obviously since you have no checked baggage, no one is in line at the check-in counters. You stop to look at the departure board, then you remember that you won't find your flight: it's too early.

You stay uncertain for a moment and look around.

You see the black shadow you saw before. A long leather coat that touches the floor is climbing up the escalator that leads to security checks. You slightly narrow your eyes for a closer look. The green of the bag, hidden by the railing, is barely visible. Something else catches your eye, though. A blood-red ribbon falls from his raven hair styled in a half ponytail at the nape of the neck. A flash of fire that shines in contrast to all that black.

As if moved by something uncontrollable, you too head for the escalator.

When you put your first foot on the first step, the shadow is already out of your sight. Your heart beats faster, you don't understand why. But you hurry up on this hellish trap, which suddenly seems too slow.

You almost miss him at the security check. You are looking for a black long-legged frock coat, not thinking that coats and jackets shall be taken off before screening.

Your eyes persistently wander among the few people in line. But it is that sound that suddenly makes your head snap in the right direction.

Toc. Pause. Toc. Pause. Toc.

It's his pace. Slow, steady. _It's him_. The black coat is back on a pair of broad shoulders, it picks up that horrible green duffel bag and enters the Duty-free gallery.

You lose precious moments at the security check. Remove your jacket, scarf, glasses, put your phone and watch in the tray. Take back the plastic bag with liquids that ended up at the bottom of the backpack...

_Can't you look through the monitors instead of letting me pull everything out of there?_

You want to scream at that officer, you want to get your hands on him. Instead, as usual, you are a mask of impassiveness.

Your shoes make the metal detector ring. So you go back, take your shoes off, go under the metal detector again. It still rings.

Fuck, the belt. They must search you.

Ok hurry up instead of chatting to each other.

They want your boarding pass, but your boarding pass is on the phone, and the phone is under the scanner.

Your patience has reached the limit. Your expression might be cold as usual, but if a gaze could kill... a certain official would have already died.

And his talkative sidekick, as well.

You are finally on the other side of the security check.

After wearing again shoes, belt, glasses, jacket, scarf, watch and mobile phone, after putting liquids, iPad and the agenda in the backpack and even the eyeglasses sheath that had apparently a suspicious shape, you can finally run through the Duty-free direct to the waiting for boarding rooms.

You have passed through the entire Duty-free gallery, two bars, a retailer of typical products, a couple of high fashion boutiques and a Japanese restaurant. And now you don't know what to do.

The signs indicate rooms A and B on the lower floor and room C on the first floor.

You look over the whole area in front of you, nothing.

You lost him.

_Find him._

The loudspeaker announces a canceled flight. It's the third one since you've been here. You don't even wonder what will happen to your flight. Tonight it seems so distant...

You stay at the board for a moment looking for some clues as to where to go. Suddenly behind you, toc. Pause. Toc. Pause. Toc. If possible even slower than before.

You turn around following the sound of the heel beating on the polished marble. God bless the polished marble and the half-empty room that makes this sound echo.

Area C.

The shadow moves slowly towards C area.

Maybe it's headed for the VIP lounge. _Well_ , you think, you have the lounge pass in your wallet. You can go there too.

The shadow stops. Motionless, as if suspended in time and space. It seems on the fence. He stretch out a hand.

From your vantage point you don't make out the details of his hand, but somehow you know it's big and strong. You can almost sense them on yourself. Long, tapered fingers, like those of a pianist.

And actually there is a piano in front of him. Just before the entrance to the VIP lounge.

So it was there he was headed...

He is still standing. His hand passes like a soft caress on the shiny wood of the grand piano. Maybe he sketches a smile, but you're not sure, you're too far away to have a good view of his face.

He sits down, his knees bang on the wood, you didn't realize exactly how tall he is.

You watch him lower the piano bench to the right height to make room for his long legs. He pulls up his hair. Restyle the disheveled half-tail in the exact same style it had a moment ago, messy yet fascinating, with that red ribbon that flashes like live fire in that sea of black.

You follow his movements as in a slow motion. His hands rest lightly on the keys. You follow his movements as if you were not there.

♪ E ... ♪ C, A, B, G, E ... ♪

Those notes... You're out of breath. You feel like you're an entity outside your own body.

You move.

Silently.

You go towards him. You can't help it. You don't even have the perception of your movements. You just see the piano coming closer. And, with it, it comes closer your black shadow too. _Yours_...?

♪ A ... ♪ B, C, D, G, A ... ♪

You are behind him, you can see his reflection in the glass in front of him.

His eyes are closed. A slight frown between the eyebrows. He raises and lowers his shoulders as if he was having difficulty breathing, as if he was trying to contain an emotion.

You can't help but notice how beautiful he is. A bright face, a mouth that seems ready to give a smile.

 _Open your eyes_ , you think. _I need to see them_.

And the wonderful thing is that he actually opens them, and through the reflection in the glass they are anchored to yours.

You stopped breathing. _Is that him_...? No thoughts, mind empty. Just a feeling of wholeness that you've never experienced before.

_Is it really him?_

Is this really the end of your search? Is this what you were looking for?

You look at the piano. You are still trying to put together a thought that can make any sense, and you do not realize that he has got up. You direct your gaze back to him. You look at him, but you don't see him. Though you can see the depth of his wide eyes. A depth that you seem to know, you can drown in it.

You try to move some muscle, you feel the shadow of a smile that would like to escape the cage of your omnipresent composure. But you stay still.

And he slowly walks away.

You notice his movements a bit later. He is already showing his back.

_No._

This you cannot allow. Your whole life led you here. You can't lose him like this.

Instinctively you reach out and grab his arm. A silent scream shakes your soul: _Stay. Do not go_.

The shadow stops.

He turns around.

A moment later, with the other hand, he grabs your wrist.

You think he wants to drive you out. After all, how do you allow yourself to grab people like that?

But he doesn't move. His eyes are chained to yours. The mouth slightly open as if it was absorbing something from the Universe itself. As if he's hit hard by some epiphany.

You feel your energy flowing towards him, _inside_ him. Like something real, physical. As if you two were one.

Two halves finally joined together.

And you probably really are, given the amount of energy that you are moving together.

Suddenly you no longer care to contain those emotions that you're are keeping locked away your whole life. You always knew you kept them for someone. Someone special.

And apparently you found it.

_So that's what it feels like._

A sound makes its way inside you. An unknown, yet familiar sound.

Like that music.

More than that music.

You see his eyes widening. In surprise. In relief.

A sound you can't stop.

Two syllables.

A name.

 _His_ name.

_"Wei Ying"_

You found him.

You will never lose him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading...  
> Oh, and you remember that english is not my first language, right? ;)


End file.
